It is the stars, the stars above us, that govern our conditions
by Imogen74
Summary: I write drabbles on Tumblr for the Lokane tag. This shall be my means to catalogue them; they will range in rating, and in mood, but their subject shall remain LOKANE. (Title from Shakespeare) Following chapter 12, I'll attempt to explain the drabble and its origin.
1. Chapter 1

_You keep my heart under the cover of night_  
><em>Could be the devil in a clever disguise<em>  
><em>Temptation leads us, it's too late for goodbye<em>  
><em>Say you're here on my side<em>  
><em>Want you here on my side<em>  
><em>Come undone with me<em>

_Diving into destruction_  
><em>Come undone with me<em>  
><em>In the state of seduction<em>  
><em>Come undone with me<em>

**Day One**

Thor had left her on Svartalfheim. Left her…it must have been a mistake. He couldn't have done this on purpose.

Left her with his brother's dead body.

"Stay here," he had said. "I'll be back for you."

He'll be back for her.

This was insane! Black Elves milling about…

She got up and walked on unsteady legs. She found a cave…for a chill had laid rest to the land.

She wrapped her garments close, and laid on the floor of the cave.

**Day Two**

She had dreamt about Earth.

Dreamt of the sun in its high station in the sky.

Dreamt of singing birds and pretty posies and the ocean…

She got up and stretched.

Jane crawled to the entrance of the cave and looked out.

It was a dreary place…red seemed to ooze and pulse from the very ground.

She sighed.

She needed food, for she was weak from the affair with the aether.

_Affair._ And apt term…it had been inside of her…tearing her to shreds…violating…

And Jane crept outside of the cave.

Hands…someone's hands were covering her mouth…she writhed about attempting an escape…

She was being pulled back inside the cave…

"Do not scream…do not move…" came his voice uncoiling around her ear.

He let go.

Jane stood frozen. That was Loki's voice…

She felt him move to in front of her…

His left arm was wrapped in front of him…He was bleeding.

Jane swallowed.

"You're alive," she whispered.

"Well spotted, mortal…" and he backed away until his back hit the wall, and he slid down.

"How?"

"Well, my lungs intake breath, then they expel it…my heart pumps blood throughout my body…"

"No! How did you survive that wound?"

He looked crookedly at her. "I am much stronger than I appear to be," he paused. "I may need your assistance…"

And Jane herself made pause.

He needed her help…

He had murdered many…

But, he had saved her…

"What do you need?"

"I will conjure things…food, bandages…I will need you to help me dress the wound."

Jane thought, he can get me food, and agreed.

She helped him take off his armor and shirt…inch by painful inch…it peeled away.

There was a lot of blood…

And Loki then conjured things…

And Jane dressed his wound.

And he watched her in her occupation.

**Day 4**

…and he had watched her sleep since he arrived.

He couldn't sleep…the pain was too acute.

His magic did little to subdue it.

The Dark Elves would never find them…he had cloaked their presence with his magic.

"Want some soup?" she asked him.

"I'm not hungry."

"You need your strength."

"I am fine, mortal…my frame is much different from your own."

"Well, you conjured it. I thought you might want some," and she shrugged.

"My…Thor, he just left, did he?"

Jane swallowed.

She nodded, looking down.

"My my my…why would he do such a thing?"

"I have no idea."

Loki smirked.

"He said he'd be back…" she protested.

"But he didn't say when."

"No," and she stood up and went to the mouth of the cave.

"No," he whispered.

**Day 7**

She was restless. Spending a week holed up with Loki was trying…

Especially a Loki who was slowly recovering from a mortal wound.

"Jane…will you help me, please?"

She went to him.

He was trying to clean it again…

"You're better…you know…you can clean this yourself."

"But then how would I enjoy your close proximity to my person?" he replied, a devilish smirk on his face.

Jane rolled her eyes, and complied.

He watched her brow crease with concentration.

He watched her nimble fingers deftly work their assignment.

He watched her…and he felt something stir.

"Tell me Jane," as she moved away from him. "What first drew you to Thor?"

"Ummm…" and she laughed. "I guess…aside from the obvious…his spinning the universe into existence one night by the fire. It was wonderful to listen to someone else who shared my passion, but could see it from a different point of view, and with eloquence, describe it."

"'Obvious' meaning his braun."

"Sure."

Loki nodded, and began to put his shirt back on. "And did he tell you of the peaks of Jutenheim…those whose frost never melt…they fill the air with dank ice and disallow any life to sustain save the giants…and did he tell you of the pools of Alfheim…they which hold in them a steam which will heal any malady…it seeps its medicine, and causes the atmosphere to glow blue…or perhaps of Muspelheim…the thick lava does ooze down volcanic rock. It covers the land in angry orange….did he mention these?"

Jane swallowed. "No. Not exactly."

"No…he merely explained to you the branches of Yggdrasil…he offered no details about them…"

"Well, in a fairness…"

"In all fairness, you were blinded by his sinewy allure."

Jane was suddenly uncomfortable. "It's really none of your business."

"Where do you suppose he is, Jane?"

She ignored him, and went to the entrance, watching the light die on the dark elves's Realm.

**Day 15**

"You are better now. We can leave," she was sick of being stuck in that cave. Over two weeks she put up with him…and he was better. Time to go. "Why are you stalling?"

His eyes held a hint of sorrow, though Jane only spied it momentarily. "I am not stalling…I need to leave to determine what the best passage is…and I am hesitant to leave you unchecked."

"Will you take me with you, then?"

"No. It is too dangerous," he was standing, looking out into the landscape from their perch.

"I'm tired, Loki. I want to leave."

"It is unwise to act rashly. The Elves are not to be trifled with."

Jane rose a bit, accentuating her height, however meager aside Loki. "I'm going. Stay here or not, but I'm done," and she left.

And she made her way through the landscape, grey, low, foreboding.

After about an hour of walking, she grew hungry, and thought that the forest to her left might serve as a means to obtain sustenance.

Jane entered the bleak wood, and felt the temperature drop.

There…berries…and she picked some (something in her mind gave her pause…danger…poison…but such warnings are seldom heeded by a hungry stomach insisting its pain). So she ate some.

And the violence of her reaction, though not immediate, was intense.

She expelled the poison from her person and fell in a heap.

**Day 16**

Crackling fire…warmth…glow…

Jane's eyes were registering her surroundings…

"You do not enjoy listening to those who might know better, do you, Jane?"

"Loki?"

"Aye…I found you half dead. You are a tiresome mortal."

"Where are we?"

"Sheltered in the forest where you nearly perished. Never fear, no one will find us," and he handed her some water.

Jane took it, and sitting up, began to cry.

Loki rolled his eyes. "What is it?"

"I'm tired of being here. I want…I want to know what's happening…where is Thor? Why did he leave me here?"

"He left you, Jane, for one of two reasons. Either he thought you'd be safer here, which, honestly, even though he isn't the wisest of specimens, is a stretch for him…or he had tired of you and disposed of you accordingly."

"You are cruel."

He shrugged. "It is how I see it."

"Maybe something horrible happened to him."

"Perhaps."

"Don't you care, Loki?"

He smiled. "What good would that do? We have our own problems. Worrying about the hammer wielder will do nothing to aid our predicament."

Jane fell asleep by the fire, not caring to hear more.

**Day 20**

She was waiting for him to return.

He had been gone quite a while now…and she was beginning to worry.

The past few days had seen him leaving rather frequently, looking for safe passage back to Asgard.

She wrung her hands in agitation.

She hated being so tethered to him.

"Well…I'd say you were lovely, if not for that scowl painted on your face."

She turned and saw him there…and she was driven by something…she got up and went to him, throwing herself into him, wrapping her arms around his torso. "You were gone so long…"

He didn't respond, other than stiffing up.

"Yes, well," and he pulled away. "I think that we might be able to leave soon…"

She looked at his face. "Truly?"

He nodded, and went to sit on the forest floor.

And though Jane thought that she might have felt relief, part of her was distressed, and she looked at him differently.

He had saved her, twice.

He was there to comfort her, feed her. protect her.

He did these things…

And Thor was absent, abandoning her on an alien world to fend for herself…

Jane swallowed and sat next to Loki, and placed her head on his shoulder.

_That night…._

Somehow, she had fallen asleep in his arms.

Somehow, she didn't mind.

Somehow, she felt as though she could stay there forever.

And she traced a finger down his torso…

…lifted her head up…

He was awake.

And she wanted this. Her hand found his, and she grasped it, leading it to her heart…"_You keep my heart under the cover of night…come undone with me…"_

And he looked at her, began to pulse his hand, and hesitantly, with uncertainty, he sat up, and claimed her mouth.

She didn't care about anything now…and her clothes were gone…everything was empty…and now his…everything was bleak and black and forgotten…his hands covered her…everything was hinging on feeling this now…and he was on top of her, inside of her, he was everywhere, he was the only thing now….

**Day 21**

"My gods," the voice was heard.

Jane opened her eyes.

And there he was.

That man whom she had ached to see…

Standing above their tangle of bodies…

"Thor?"

He shook.

And disappeared through the wood.

Jane looked at Loki.

He was awake.

And he was smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

_Drabble requirements in bold_

"Why Did I Ever Fall In Love With You?"

Extra points if it has cowboy boots, hairspray, pantyhose and a fire alarm.

She didn't like her **cowboy boots**. She didn't like going to this stupid bar. This was all Darcy's doing, and she really, really resented her for convincing her that this was a good idea.

But Jane was ready, and she looked herself over in the glass. She looked alright, not that she cared that much. It was a goddamn country bar.

Her bell rang.

She went to answer it.

"Jesus, Darcy. How much **hairspray** are you wearing to have your hair do that?"

"I don't want to talk about it. You ready?"

"Yeah…but you owe me big time."

And they left.

"I hate cowboy boots, Darcy," Jane whined as they walked.

"I don't want to do this, either, you know. Ian is so weird. He's British, and he likes country music. Isn't there some sort of scientific algorithm that proves that this is a genetic impossibility?"

Jane laughed.

They approached the bar.

There was music of a decidedly country nature emanating from inside.

The women sighed and entered.

"There he is, Jane…can you grab me a beer and meet me over there?"

"Oh, now I'm fetching drinks for you,too?"

"Look…stay for half an hour, and then you can go," she winked.

"Whatever," and Jane went to the bar. She situated herself onto a stool, and attempted to gain the keep's notice.

"You have a run in your **pantyhose**," came a deep voice carrying a British accent next to her.

"Excuse me?" Jane was affronted, and she turned.

Man. In black, head to toe, sporting a black cowboy hat. And he had nice eyes.

"Your pantyhose. They have a run," he guided her vision with his eyes to her legs.

Sure enough, there was a nice run that started somewhere under her skirt…

"Oh! Shit."

He laughed. "I wouldn't concern myself over it," and he drank his beer deeply.

"No…you like Johnny Cash?"

"Why?"

"Man in Black," and this time, Jane's eyes scanned the man's frame.

"I like black…I have no opinion on your reference."

She shrugged. "I'm Jane," and she held her hand out for him to shake.

"Loki," and he took it.

"So…do a lot of British guys like country music?"

He smirked and let go of her hand. "Why do you ask?"

"Because you're here, and my friend met her boyfriend here and he's British, too."

"I don't care for country music. I'm here for the beer."

Jane laughed. "Then what's with the hat?"

"It looks good," he paused. "Wouldn't you say?"

Jane considered him a moment. "Take it off."

And Loki's eyebrow cocked at her demanding tone, but he took it off, anyway.

Jane leaned back to gain a better look. "Mmm, no. I like it better off."

A song was heard emerging from the juke box. And Loki's gaze went to the machine. "Care to dance, Jane?"

"Ah…" she recognized it…that really sappy "_Why Did I Ever Fall In Love With You_?" song that Darcy often hummed. "Ok."

And Loki stood, took her hand, and led her to the dance floor.

He wrapped his right arm around her waist, and took her hand in his left.

And he guided her gracefully across the floor.

"You're a good dancer…" Jane smiled.

He shrugged. "Not terribly difficult to do."

She noticed that he as looking behind her, his eyes were focused…"Everything alright?" she asked, attempting to look at what Loki was staring at.

"Fine, why?"

And all of a sudden…the bell rang out.

A **fire alarm**.

And people began racing for the exits…

Jane looked hurriedly at Loki…"Come on!" and she pulled on his hand.

Instead, he grinned and pulled her close…

His hand tugged at her hair.

His mouth found hers…

And he kissed her soundly…long, and with fire…his other hand placed on the side of her face, and his tongue assaulting hers indelicately.

He pulled away.

Jane's eyes remained closed…

And when she opened them, he was gone…

"What do you mean he disappeared?" Darcy and Jane were walking home later.

"I mean, he kissed me and then he was gone…I don't even know…can someone just disappear?"

"Ah…no," Darcy smirked. "But I bet this means that you'll be coming with Ian and I next time…"

"Maybe…" and she grinned.


	3. Chapter 3

Sterile.

Vast.

Empty.

The monitor was beeping its life, indicating that there was still a heart thrumming in her chest cavity.

Unlike his own, which barely pressed on, lackluster and yet erratic.

"Loki."

"Go away."

"You need to eat, son."

"I need for you to leave."

Frigga entered the room of the hospital, and touched his shoulder.

He winced.

"It's not your fault, you know…"

He swallowed.

It was his fault…

Jane had insisted that they wait to leave the party, the roads were getting bad…ice was falling now, covering the snow…

And he lost control of the car.

He lost the car.

He hadn't been to work in a month, he'd likely lose his job.

Their house…

He had become an expert at losing….

_The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. _

But to lose _her. _His wife…how could he live with that?

He couldn't, especially since it was _his fault _she was laying there, barely alive.

Yet these trivial things: house. Car. Job. They were all laughable, ridiculous, and expendable.

How…how could he live without his wife?

_"__You cannot love me, Jane. No one does."_

_"__I guess I'm just a rebel, then."_

_"__There is not a single thing which is rebellious about you…didn't you start talking to me to get close to my brother?" he added weakly._

_"__Well, yeah…but I fell in love with you…"_

"Loki…"

"Go away, mother! No one can help me! And nothing you can say will make me feel any better!" he shook his words. "It should have been me…Jane could live without me…I…"

"She will live, son."

"She won't…"

But Jane Odinson held on for weeks…

And Loki sweated his pain in the hospital room.

He swore and barely ate.

And he decided that this was no way to live…his wife of ten beautiful years dying in the hospital while he sat in mad vigil…

He thought about procuring a gun.

"Jane…" and he held her hand. "I'm so sorry…" and tears fell. "And I am a loathsome, wretched mess of a man…" his voice cracked. "…and I…I just can't watch you die…"

But his mind did writhe with chance, with hope, with want…but to stay there and watch her…how could he? He was guilty…and even if she woke, she would never forgive him. Nor should he desire it…

…..

Frigga entered the room to find it empty…

And Jane was smiling at her.

"Loki!" Frigga cried.

"He just left, mother," said Thor, entering the room.

"Get him this instant…"


	4. Chapter 4

_The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. _

Though it was certainly true that he enjoyed playing games, that the thrill of the competition and the reward of winning was something which satisfied something primal and innate, he was not accustomed to loss.

It was also undeniably true that he coveted many things. These things ranged from power to a lighter armor, from acknowledgment to fine wine, from love to submission. But nothing, nothing in all of the realms could compare with the desire he had for his so-called brother's ex lover.

He had taken to visiting her on occasion.

On Midgard.

Why was he visiting her? Well, he had become enamored of the conceit that to win her would hurt Thor. And he wanted to hurt Thor, for many, many reasons.

But then something changed, and she became more receptive to his company.

Something changed, and he was not quite so dubious in his motives.

Or perhaps he was more so.

Either way, it happened that it was a very hot evening in the desert (there were many of these), and Jane Foster was star gazing (as was her custom).

And Loki lurked in shadow observing her in her reverie.

He _must_ have her.

"Jane Foster."

She turned and sighed (also her custom), but offered a weak smile. "Hey Loki."

"Do you never tire of your constant examination of the stars?"

"Do you never tire of bothering me?" and she laughed.

"What else do you do to pass the time?"

"I dunno…sometimes I read…watch a movie…play cards…?"

"Play?"

"Yeah…a game? Cards?"

Intriguing. "Well, perhaps you might show me."

"Show _you_ how to play cards? You'll cheat."

Loki laughed. "I should be insulted, but I'm too amused to really be affected," he paused. "You have my word that I shall play fair."

"You word."

"That's right."

She rolled her eyes. "How will I know? You're a sorcerer."

He shrugged. "I tell you what. I'll wager something of value if I win…and you shall claim victory if you lose."

"That's dumb." But Jane figured that though this was quite possibly the dumbest thing she had ever done, she might as well do it than not, and agreed.

She wasn't doing anything, anyway.

"I'll teach you five card stud."

And they went down to her meek dwelling, and Jane dealt out the cards.

An hour passed thus, and Jane had poured out some wine for herself, and was feeling flushed and tipsy.

"No, that isn't a straight flush…that's that…other thing…" she wasn't making sense.

"I lost once more, then," and he smiled.

"You are something…you almost sound pleased."

"_The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster_."

"Right," Jane smiled. "So…what do I get?"

He sat back and his mouth curled. "Well, Jane, what would you like?"

"I…" what did she want? "Ummm…"

"Care if I make a suggestion?"

"No. Go ahead."

He leaned in very close and looked at her steadily. "I can offer you a kiss."

She looked at him blankly. "What."

Loki smiled more broadly. "Aren't you curious?"

"No!" yes she was. Jane swallowed.

"I think that you are the one who is being less than honest."

And Jane returned his stare and began to perspire somewhat…

And before she knew it, his mouth was on hers and her eyes were closed…her hands were grasping the table for balance…

…and just as she began to emit a soft moan, he stopped.

She opened her eyes, and he was gone.

And Jane Foster did think that she was the one who had lost something that evening.


	5. Chapter 5

_Hatred would have been easier. With hatred, I would have known what to do. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love._

_Margaret Atwood, Cat's Eye_

_"__I'll take you over, there_

_aluminum, tastes like fear_

_adrenaline, it pulls us near_

_I'll take you over…"_

R.E.M.'s "E-Bow the Letter," was playing on her iPod, and Jane thought that it was an apt description of how she felt was she was afraid…

It tasted like metal.

And it had been two years since she and Thor had called it quits.

Two years…and she was relieved, though it hardly seemed to be the case. She wasn't eating properly. She wasn't sleeping properly.

Jane looked out of her window and sighed.

She probably needed therapy.

Needed therapy because what she had done had destroyed her. And she bled. Her tears too insubstantial now, she needed to bleed her pain.

She took to drink, to, as they say, drown her sorrow.

She must be a good swimmer.

She hadn't meant to cheat on him, especially since her parents' marriage had ended in divorce due to infidelity.

And the look on his face…pain…rage…uncomprehending horror…Jane, his almost fiancé, in bed with his brother.

_Loki._

She hated what he had done to her life…in some sort of mad rage and fit for revenge, he had seduced her.

And yet, she reminded herself, she went with him willingly.

And the metal rose from her bowels…

Because he had seduced more than her body. He had won her mind…

…and…she whispered…her heart.

_Fuck._

The realization had descended its light on her a few months ago, when, after not seeing him since the break up, she ran into him at a party…

_"__Fancy seeing you here, Jane Foster," he purred._

_"__Fuck off, Loki."_

_"__Too soon, then?" and he walked around her and placed his hand on her shoulder._

_She shuddered…._

_Aluminum…_

_She turned and grabbed him._

_And they were upstairs now, he had ripped her dress…_

_She divested his shirt of its buttons…_

_…__and she pushed him onto the bed and took him there._

_Because she hated him._

_Because she needed to taste something other than metal._

He had completely ruined her, and her life was, from that point on, a series of longing for him, of hating him, of dreading him, fearing him…because she did fear him. He made her into someone she didn't recognize.

And she loved him.

She loved him.

And the metal, it was strong…always metal, whether liquid or solid…always there, churning its insidious presence…

Her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Jane Foster."

"Loki."

"Yes…are you free this evening?"

"No."

"Lies are unbecoming to such a perfect mouth, Jane…"

She laughed. "Yeah…" and then a tear fell. "I hate you, Loki."

"I believe that you want to, Jane…"

"There is nothing that I want more…_Hatred would have been easier. With hatred, I would have known what to do. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love. _And so I'm stuck. And I love you."

"Sweet."

"Go to hell."

"I'll see you in an hour," and he pressed "End" on the phone.

He looked out of the window of his vast, ostentatious flat.

He touched the small box in his breast pocket and smiled.

Soon…

And the metal of his car keys scraped the kitchen counter as he left to get her.


	6. Chapter 6

A piece of him was left there below the heart of the darkness of salt and water.

It made no sense.

But then, he didn't want sense any longer.

He was so _tired._ So very tired of being so angry, so bitter, so lost in his mind and anger. And he stood on the terrace outside of the great dining hall, and he was breathing.

Breathing, because that was all that he had now.

He was back from his death, from his punishment, from his forgiveness, and he was now quite broken.

What would be a tenable opiate to his malady of a shattered soul?

He walked a bit through the garden…it was morning…and he had not slept since his release three days previous. So much he had let go of in recent months, he felt discontinuous..vapid… ether…air…was he even solid? A man? A Frost Giant? (he seethed)

Loki Laufeyson picked a small orange blossom from an obliging shrub. He twirled it between his fingers, and relished the solidity of the thing.

Hold on to this thing…it's real.

Real…

"Loki?"

He turned.

Jane Foster.

Thor's woman.

She began to approach him…"How are you feeling?"

His eyes squinted at her. "Why do you care, Jane Foster of Midgard?"

"Well…because you were only recently released from your cell, and because Thor said that you were different…changed…"

"Did he now?" and contempt dripped from his tongue.

"Yeah. He did," and she stopped in front of him and folded her arms defiantly.

Loki's face fell. He loathed his ire, and required a soft spring of something to subdue it. He turned from the mortal. "Well, Thor overstates my…metamorphosis."

"Maybe, but…" she cleared her throat. "Maybe I understand a bit more than you think I do."

His back remained stubbornly toward her. "Understand? What can you understand?"

"I understand that life doesn't always go to plan. I understand that people change. I understand that the universe, while predictable about some things, is simultaneously entropic, and _It is never too late to be what you might have been."_

"What might I have been?" and at this, he turned toward her.

"Well," and she smiled. "I heard once that you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. Maybe the opposite holds true…maybe you can either die a villain, or live long enough to become a hero."

Loki laughed. "You think that I am a hero? You are naive."

"No…not yet, " and she began to walk away. "But I also believe in the beauty of possibility, and from this day forward, I'll have my eye on you, Loki."

Jane left him there in the garden…

…and he thought about how he had entered the place that morning utterly alone, but would leave it now having found a kin…


	7. Chapter 7

Call him Loki. Prince.

He was accustomed to the immediate and necessary sway of those charged with seeing to his needs…and of those, there were many.

He wanted nothing a Prince in 2014 wouldn't desire, and in truth, it wasn't far from what a Prince 400 years ago wouldn't also desire.

Except perhaps a horse-drawn carriage, but then, if he did, in fact, crave such a thing, he surely would have it.

He accepted that if he found something that he wanted, it was his. His mother smiled upon him lavishly, his father, not so much. But then his father wasn't much of Loki's concern. His brother enjoyed the steady cyclopean stare of Odin, King, and Loki was happy to live in shadow. It was rather creepy, at any rate (and he was a dark sort).

It was when at a banquet, dignitaries aplenty, that the Prince first beheld something which caught his eye, unbidden.

Or someone.

Yes, she was a someone, and she was on the arm of a rather ridiculous looking representative from some nation Loki cared little for.

He went to her when she was obtaining some wine from the bar.

"Red or white?" asked the Prince.

The lady looked at him quizzically. "Red. Always."

Fire, then. "I prefer red as well…the merlot on hand is quite good."

She smiled and nodded, and requested the suggested vintage from the tender.

"And what is your name?" the Prince asked.

"Jane," and she sipped.

He nodded, expecting her to bow, or curtsy, or else throw herself at his feet as he had been the custom when he showed a lady attention.

But she did none of this.

He cleared his throat.

"Whom are you here with?"

"Some dignitary…he asked me, since his wife had recently left him, and he knows me from the bookshop."

"The bookshop?"

"My bookshop."

"Ah…" and he smiled.

And they were engaged in conversation for a while, when Jane the Lady took her leave.

The Prince felt bereft of her presence almost immediately…

The next day he sent her flowers.

Nothing.

The following, chocolates (since he had this archaic notion that all ladies adored the sweet, and though he wasn't wrong, he was hardly right).

No response.

And on the third day, he sent her a letter, prose in format, expressing a desire to see her once more.

And Lady Jane (though she wasn't a Lady in the strictest of senses), refused to reply.

"This is not to be born!" cried the Prince to his attendant. "How dare she ignore my attempts!"

"Perhaps, you Highness, she desires more than simple gestures of attention."

"Such as?" he replied in his irritation.

"I cannot say, but something other than the traditional efforts might win her."

And Loki left in a state, running his hand through his hair in agitation.

Such insolence!

Such insubordination!

How can this be so?

What can be done to assuage this contemptible situation?

And he sat at his desk (finely crafted, with heavy dark wood and intricate lines simpering their design), and began to write.

The Prince wrote as never he had before…he wrote metaphors and passion; his heart he did spill, his symbiotic pain of need and custom, until the sun seeped its day through the leaded glass of his chambers.

As for Jane, she thought it humorous to be the object of such fierce attention from a royal.

He wasn't serious.

And if he was, he had better check himself and his antediluvian attitudes.

It had been a week passing thus, in such a state of ridiculous happenings, when a man, dressed very smart, asked to see the purveyor of books at her shop.

"I am she," replied the Lady.

"This, my Lady, is for you."

Jane smiled, and she opened the envelope, and this is what she read.

_I want in fact more of you. In my mind I am dressing you with light; I am wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance and then I give myself to you. I long for you; I who usually long without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you._

She smiled, and quaked at the lines…

And Jane did, that very moment, decide to bend…

"She will not have me," the Prince opined to the empty room (save lavish furnishings and a blazing fire).

"Your Highness?" came a voice from the door.

He turned, his visage writhed in torment at the neglect of the Lady.

And the attendant stepped aside.

And Jane the Lady stood there, a piece of paper clenched in her hand, a smile painted on her face.


	8. Chapter 8

_Some say it's lonely at the top._

The throne room was a glitter of gold and an expanse of flat air.

And Loki sat there, watching particle matter fleck their energy in circumspect motion.

He sat there and sneered.

With a face too old for his 1,000 years, with hands gnarled from the medicine of war, with a staff stalwart and placed so still in his grasp…with a cyclopean stare he lowered his gaze.

He heard the steps.

And there she was.

"Odin," said the mortal, bowing her reverence.

Loki nodded.

She cleared her throat. "So, ah…Thor sent me here…he said I should ask you for an **apple**."

She shrugged and smirked her embarrassment.

Loki's brow creased. "Is that so?"

"Ah…yeah?"

"And why would my son send _you _to ask me such a thing?"

Jane shuffled her feet. "Well, he said that it would make me immortal…and Aesir."

Loki sighed heavily and considered her. "You have gall, mortal. To come here, addressing me thus. Give me one reason why I shouldn't send you away."

"Because Thor loves me," she replied with feeling.

"And you…? You return that sentiment?"

Jane swallowed. "Honestly…I guess, I'm just confused."

"You should see to that. It won't do to be unsure of yourself with regard to such things," and the ancient King rose, and left her there.

And Jane, with her dress too long, her hair too piled on top of her head, sighed and left as well.

Through the cavernous hall she slunk, too tired to argue her hesitation, too mired in her thoughts to care.

She loathed the dress of Asgard. She wanted her Levi's back.

To her room she went, and took out a paper and pen.

She wrote her hesitation, she wrote her worry.

She sung her concern over dresses too long and hair too high.

She loved Thor, yes…but she didn't love this place.

Jane thought that she should…it was lovely enough. Lovely…too lovely, and she wrote that as well.

A commotion was heard just outside her door, and she crumpled her pain and threw it into the **trashcan.**

Jane went over and opened the door, seeing servants and attendants running amuck in the hall.

"What…?" she began, but the question died on her lips, for no person stopped, they were too immersed in the task at hand.

Might as well follow them…and she did.

They were headed outdoors, out to the garden.

And there was Thor. And he was holding someone.

Tall.

Dark.

Loki.

Jane shoved her way to the center of the commotion.

"Thor!" she yelled.

He stopped and turned. "Jane! Will you look and see who has returned to us?" he was beaming at his younger brother.

His brother, who appeared quite gaunt.

His brother, who appeared to be sickly wan…

Dressed in black.

Bones piercing under his skin in fierce revolt.

He didn't appear to be well.

Like some sick version of **Michael Jackson.**

Jane went over to him. "He needs a doctor, Thor…"

And she looked at him steadily in the face, and she spied something malicious, something familiar, something kin, but altogether alien.

The Thunder God nodded, and took Loki from the garden to the infirmary.

Two days Loki stayed his place in his sick bed, while Thor held vigil.

Jane was left quite abandoned, and wandered the palace at odd hours.

"Jane."

She was at the window, staring out into the garden. She turned at her name.

"Hey! How's Loki?"

"He wishes to see you."

"What?"

"He wishes to see you," Thor repeated.

"Me? Why would he want to see me?"

He entered the room fully, and looked at her. "I cannot say. He seems very different. But he desires an interview, and I told him I'd fetch you."

Jane nodded.

She shrugged. "Now?"

"Now, Jane, is as good a time as ever."

She smiled and left for the infirmary.

The air in the place was odd…it felt simultaneously heavy and thin.

Like it was pressing a touch, slowly, steadily, in a stunted effort to suffocate her.

Her footfalls sounded as though their sound were being sucked into the air, bleeding their timbre into the void.

There he was.

And she went to him.

Jane sat on the chair; he followed her with his eyes.

"Thor said you wanted to see me."

"Thor speaks the truth."

She shifted. "So…how are you feeling?"

"Like I have been speared through the chest and left to die on an icy plane on Svartalfheim."

Her face fell a touch, but her eyes betrayed anger. "Well, we thought that you were dead."

"I should hope so."

She smiled. "Why did you want to see me?"

"Thor has indicated that you are to eat an apple. Become Aesir."

"Well, theoretically."

His eyebrow arched. "Theoretically?"

"Odin hasn't agreed to it yet."

"Convince him," he replied plainly.

"How?! How, when he is a King, and I am a mortal? How, when I know nothing about what I am doing? How…when…"

"When?"

She played with her dress, fidgeted in her seat.

"Yes Jane?" he egged her on. "Suddenly so mute."

"I don't even know if I want to do this…" she whispered.

His head fell back on his pillow. "Thor doesn't know this, does he?"

"No."

He winced in pain. "Well, Jane Foster. I'd say that you need to figure this out."

"Thanks," and she rolled her eyes.

And Loki chuckled, and held his chest, and Jane stood.

"What do you need?" she asked him.

"Stay," replied he.

For two weeks the God of Mischief played his injury.

He played the King.

And he watched as Jane Foster seared her confusion, masking it from Thor.

And he listened to her stories in the insipid air of the infirmary.

He was attempting to figure her.

But…he enjoyed her company.

And…he resented the throne.

_Some say it's lonely at the top, _he had once heard. He hadn't believed it, but he had begun to rethink his position on this.

She walked into the infirmary, a smile painted on her face.

"I told Thor I wouldn't eat the apple," she reported, sitting down, wearing odd blue pants. (though they clung to her shape nicely…and he snapped his gaze from her legs)

"Indeed? And what did he say?"

"He told me that he understood, but that I would need to go home soon."

"You seem pleased with his response," returned Loki.

"I am. I want to go home."

"Are you still in love with our future King?"

"I…" she swallowed. "I dunno…"

Loki nodded.

And they spoke for a while, until Jane decided it was time to go.

And Eir decided Loki was better.

And Odin decided to send Jane home…

For the aged King resented her distraction, her blue pants and her sepia eyes, her cascade of supple hair…too much for a withered King to withstand.

And on he sat, perched high on his throne.

And thought that his son Loki would need to pay a visit to Midgard.


	9. Chapter 9

_My body is very attracted to your body, but when you speak my brain gets angry._

She slammed the door with purpose behind her.

It wasn't that she was playing a game. Jane didn't care for games, for there was always a loser.

She honestly despised how she succumbed to the charm of the Silver Tongue. She hated it. And sometimes she hated him.

It wasn't like a door could hold him. He'd just materialize in any closed quarters and then they'd be at it again.

She had told Thor she wanted to return home, but he was too wrapped up in prince stuff and Sif (or rather, wrapped around the Lady who was, at first, hated by Jane, but now Jane had learned to like her. A bit.).

And Loki decided _he_ wanted to be wrapped around Jane.

In Jane.

Outside of her quarters.

Inside of them.

On the table after dinner.

The library…against the bookshelves with the books raining down on them from their rhythmic action.

At first, she had been compliant. He was an intoxicating specimen (with a bad boy streak she couldn't help but admit was enthralling), and world domination notwithstanding, he wasn't _so_ bad. Besides, he had offered her comfort when Thor had forsaken her.

And Jane, surprisingly, wasn't upset.

Because she had begun to look in Loki's direction, and was pleased with what she saw…

And it didn't hurt that she thought that she'd be getting back at Thor the teeniest bit with her attentions to his brother.

But something had gone awry.

And she began to long for him more than she ought.

She began to dream about him.

His touch.

His words.

Damn.

"Jane Jane Jane _Jane._ When will you learn? You can run, but you cannot hide…and your insistence in resisting me only makes my hunger swell…along with a few other choice things," he was behind her, on the other side of the room.

Jane turned, eyes menacing, attempting to stab him with her fury. "I told you Loki. I'm done. I'm over it. I want you to leave me alone."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."

"No," and he approached her.

"Yes!" and she stepped back.

"What does your body suggest, Jane? Breasts heaving, moist with perspiration, brow furrowed, eyes ablaze, and no doubt, certain other parts are quite moist as well…" his eyebrow raised with suggestion.

"You know, you're right. But though _my body is very attracted to your body, (but) when you speak my brain gets angry. _Is that what you want? Someone constantly angry with your advances?"

"It is a drink I'd love to enjoy repeatedly, actually," and his hand wrapped around her waist.

"You're a pig."

He grinned.

"You're despicable," she spat.

He pressed into her.

"I hate you," she choked.

"I know," and he claimed her mouth, and pushed her into the closed door.

And Jane thought, shit. Here we go again…will it never end? Did she even want it to?

"You don't want it to end, Jane."

"What?! How did you…?"

"I know the ire of that mind of yours quite well," and he pulled away. "And she is not nearly as angry as you claim…"

Jesus. What had she gotten herself into…? A mind reader?

_Come, dear…don't be afraid…_

He lifted her skirts.

_Your mind untethers her fury so wantonly._

_Fuck you. _Jane thought.

_With pleasure…_Loki returned.

And she succumbed to her body's pull once more.


	10. Chapter 10

Her absence…

_Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything…_

The sun was slipping slowly into the crease of horizon.

The clock ticked its time.

Loki sat at the table, wringing his hands in agitation.

He sighed, and thought about the expanse of the atmosphere and how it pervaded the scene before his eyes.

He got up and left the small space…

His vision was distracted, taking in this bit of earth, that cloud, this cactus…

He despised New Mexico's mocking raw emptiness.

Emptiness…

Jane had left him…and _her absence is like the sky, spread over everything…_

Not a single thing could make up for this hollow singe in his gut.

The heat of the furnace of air made him heady and nauseous, and he hated his weakness.

Just what had she reduced him to?

Simpering, quaking, hateful mess of a man.

This was not to be born, as he began to pace.

This…this state of uncertainty, this quagmire of empty interludes of loneliness…

If this was what love had to offer, he thought she should keep her wares.

And he loved her, despite himself.

How amusing her smile.

How pithy her observations on everything from the sky to the state of affairs in current politics.

How lovely her lips…and he winced.

She had abandoned him, just like all the rest.

And why shouldn't she?

What had he to offer, really?

Broken, sordid, inept husband…

Why she had agreed to marry him, he still couldn't fathom.

But she had, one morning nine months ago now…

"Jane, I know that you are hesitant to agree to marriage, but I have been giving this a lot of thought…"

"You always do, Loki…too much, I'd say."

"Yes, well. At any rate, I honestly think that we should, you know, make things official…Mother does love you so."

"I should marry you because your mother loves me?" she asked him with a crooked smile.

"Well, call it an incentive."

"Why should I marry you, Loki?"

He swallowed. "Because, Jane Foster, you are my everything…and without you, I break."

She smiled, and leaned in, and kissed him softly. "Yes."

"Yes?" he pulled away.

"Yes, I'll marry you."

And in that moment, everything seemed lighter, everything was more than fine…everything would be alright from then on.

Until now.

Until today.

She had left him…and wouldn't be back.

He went into their modest house and slammed the door.

His hands formed fists in agitation.

And he honestly did feel the bile creeping up his insides…

"Hey, Loki," came her voice.

"Jane," he breathed.

"Can you help me with this stuff?" she was holding bags and was experiencing some difficulty managing them.

"You're here," and he went to her to help.

"Um, yeah. I went grocery shopping."

"You were gone so long," and he followed her to the kitchen. "You didn't tell me where you were going…"

"Lines, Loki. And you were busy…" she observed his face. "Were you worried?"

"Ah…well, no. Not exactly."

"You need to calm down, sweetie. I can go shopping, you know…" and she pecked his cheek.

He ran his hands through his hair and laughed.

He needed to stop reading quotes by C.S. Lewis on the internet…


	11. Chapter 11

The atoms of existence were mocking in their craft. So many songs of wonder do lend themselves to cosmic reverie.

At first, it was a chide.

And then, it was curiosity.

Until nothing could stop him, and he would continue his march, staving off the hellish aftermath with a grin.

And time, its turn, despite the unending life of sorrowful mischance, begged only a harbinger with a steely gaze.

"I won't," she had said, determined in her tone.

"Yes, you shall," he had returned, with casual indifference.

And though there was no force, save the cataclysmic union of atoms, he felt it with searing pain…so pleasurable that his eyes did lose their focus, and like the blind man he became, groped in the darkness.

He could not see anything but the electricity in her bones.

Not hear anything but the rush of her blood through her veins.

Not feel anything, save the plane of her skin…prickled with anticipation and quivering in need.

And taste, elusive on his tongue, unless it was her own…silky and sweet and formidably unique.

And in night's cloak he wandered, always back with the pixels of stars pecked through the sinful blanket of sky…

"We need to stop," she had said, years having gone by.

"We will never stop," and he looked at her, with both consternation and worry.

"You can't make all of the decisions…" she protested.

And his answer was his mouth on hers to silence her dissent.

The morning dawned grey.

Its breath cool, its arms long, holding him down to preclude his movement.

He swallowed his wrathful pride, so sickening a turn…for he knew what awaited him in the dull light of day.

_Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything, _as his hand found the pillow that didn't hold her head.

His legs moved to find no reciprocating motion.

He heard the quiet sound of hum and song…

And he rose up from the chamber's bed.

Loki smoothed out his hair.

He conjured his clothes.

He sighed his final sigh he would ever breathe for her.

And with a wavering gait, he made his way to the door.

He heard the sound of the thunderer's boom, and knew that the deed was done.

And he abandoned his heart in that room he was never meant to enter.

His mind hardened, immune henceforth to the want for tenderness…

He resumed his station as the miscreant he had worn, so heavy on his shoulders; and now, the weight would be such that his movement would be impeded.

And this was how he would navigate the paths of subtle light, with an albatross so stifling, so menacing, so choking, he would never breathe again.

She had married him.

He had told her to.

And he left in that morning's grey stare, the look of forever steady and slow.


	12. Chapter 12

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a sorcerer bereft of sentiment is a sorcerer impotent of magic.

And this, apparently, was lost not on one Loki Laufeyson.

For never, not once in all of his traverses of many stars, many Realms, many pathways hidden to so very many souls, did he believe himself to be capable of want (other than the rather obvious want for power).

Sif stared at him at the table.

Jane Foster nibbled her bread.

Thor was sitting churning the scene in his mind.

He could not believe, refused, in fact, to listen to Jane and her silly assurance that everything was going to be alright. It wasn't going to be alright, for she had absolutely no idea what she was in for.

He looked at Loki.

Loki looked at him.

Was that a hint of a smug smile?

"You, brother, have enchanted her mind," whispered the thunderer.

"I have done no such thing."

"You have, for what other reason…?"

"What reason, indeed? Has it never occurred to you that there is something precious in me? Something, I might add, you once claimed to see, but now in the wake of much heartache, you've fallen blind to?"

Thor stood. "She does not love you, Loki!"

"I do," whispered Jane.

The massive man whipped his frame in the direction of the assurance. "How? How can you?"

"I just do," was her reply. Soft, but firm.

Thor relaxed his taut muscles.

He slackened his grip on the table.

He realized that though he thought he loved this tiny creature, love was surely a reciprocating enterprise, and if her love was so fallible, so changeful, perhaps he, too, didn't love her as he thought.

He left the hall.

"Well, Jane. That was much more pleasant than I had imagined it to be," said Loki, with a hint of victory.

"It's not over yet," she replied.

"No…but it will be easier henceforth," and he stood, and went to her, pulled her chair out, and took her hand.

They too, left the grand hall, whispering words of adoration and playful suggestion.

And Lady SIf was there, left in the wake of the scene, static and its cadence rising like steam in the aftermath.

Even without Jane Foster's love, he still remained blind to her.

And Sif, with a sob, said to no one in the room save the empty plates and chairs, "_How do you stop loving someone when they've stopped loving you?"_

But even that, she thought, was not entirely true…the whisper of love in the heat of the black of night was something she had since convinced herself she had heard. And that one night, just before he was banished to Midgard, was a solemn swan song, a painful curse, a want preserved…

One night did not a commitment make.

And Sif felt it acutely.

She rose from the table.

She felt her armor in its steel glory.

And she commenced what she did best.

Ignore her heart in favor of friendship with the Thunder God.


	13. Chapter 13

_This was written as a gift exchange on the Lokane tag on Tumblr. The request follows:_

Optional prompts: character wise, darker Loki, cunning Loki, attention-seeking Loki, science-obsessed Jane (more than anything).

If possible I want a story whereby their relationship is shown to work on a 'hidden' trust and love, despite their eccentric personalities.

(Hidden being that they never actually tell each other flat out that they trust and love each other)

* * *

><p>"Hidden"<p>

Part One - Madness

He was watching her.

She was manic in her movement, flitting about the science-place in frantic chaos. _This _was the mortal his brother had imposed himself on? What was she doing, anyway?

Loki was standing, cloaked in his magic, hidden, outside of Jane Foster's poor excuse for a lab, and she was running about the small space, talking to herself and impassioned in her purpose. Thor had left a few weeks previous, and she was determined that if he wasn't coming back, she would get to him.

The maths were there…she just needed to work a bit harder…

"Janie, go home."

"Go away, Erik."

Erik Selvig walked in front of her…he loved this mad little scientist, but she hadn't been herself since that business with Thor. Damn it all. "You need your rest and to eat something other than junk food."

"I'm almost done," she said distractedly, and she punched the keyboard with her fingertips.

He shook his head and left her there.

Jane's eyes glazed over a touch…she had been staring at the screen for what seemed like ages.

Her eyes drooped slowly….

_She was standing in the middle of the sepia expanse. Wind rushed up and swept her hair in a blinding dust. It stung. Jane looked around…there…in the distance…was a steel thing. At first she thought it was the destroyer, it was appeared to be so big. But no, not so big as that…it was a machine. She started toward it, and when she reached it, she saw that it was eloquent. "It will give you what you need," said a silky voice. She turned and saw a tall, dark man standing next to the steel machine. "What I need?" she was doubtful. "Just so," and he nodded, and disappeared._

Her eyes snapped open. "I can build it…" she whispered.

….

"Pop tarts pop tarts pop tarts…" she was in the pathetic excuse for a grocery store. Jane kinda loathed these aspects of Puente Antiguo. It was so archaic in so many ways.

"You appear to be lost."

Jane turned. "No. I know exactly where I am."

The man came forward. "Do you now?" and he took the box of pop tarts from her, examining them. "Well, you may know exactly _where_ you are, but I'd venture to say that you haven't a clue what you are eating."

Jane snatched the box from him. "These happen to be fucking good, thank you very much. And I don't have the time to cook," she snapped, and turned throwing the box into her cart and walking away.

"You are distracted," he said, following her down the aisle.

"I'm not…" and she turned to him as they reached the register. "Do I know you?"

"Not that I am aware," and he placed a bottle of scotch on the belt.

"I'm not paying for that," she smartly said.

"No. I am. As well as the rest of it," and he pulled out a wad of cash.

"Hey, cut it out. Who are you, anyway?" Jane was pushing his hand out of the way and taking out her own money in the process.

"I am known as Fenrir."

"Weird," and she hastily handed the cashier her money.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," and she walked away.

The sun hit her hard as she exited the store, and she squinted and sighed. Jane made her way down the street, walking the fifteen minutes to her lab.

"I believe it is considered rude to walk away from someone as they are speaking with you," and Fenrir was next to her, walking.

Jane side-eyed him. If he weren't so tall, dark, and British, she would have run. "Look, man…I really…that is, I'm not interested."

"Interested?" responded he.

"Yeah…I mean…" Jane swallowed and walked faster.

"My dear, I have no designs on you romantically," he paused. "I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't supply it."

He stopped.

So did she.

His eyebrows went up his forehead.

Her eyes fell. "Jane."

Fenrir nodded. "Jane. Allow me to walk you back."

"I don't need a chaperone."

But Fenrir started to walk away anyway in the direction of her lab, and Jane followed, begrudgingly.

The pair reached the lab and Jane opened the door to cool air hitting her face. She sighed her relief, and turned to see Fenrir entering the lab. "You're still here," and she began unpack the groceries.

"I thought we might share a drink," and he went to her kitchen and procured some glasses.

Jane looked at him with a hint of astonishment.

"What?" and he poured out the liquid.

"Nothing. You've got nerve. We only just met."

He handed her the glass and drank his own. "Well. Time to get to know one another. This is your…how do you say it?"

"Lab?"

"Quite."

"I thought that Brits knew about labs, and considering how well you just discussed astrophysics on the way here, I thought for sure you'd know what a lab was," she sat across from Fenrir and sipped her scotch.

"I thought that perhaps Americans might have another name," he said quickly. "What are you currently working on?"

Jane looked at him dubiously. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Call it curiosity."

She downed the rest. "Space travel."

"Indeed?" his interest was piqued. This mortal wished to travel through space….something he could do with ease. "And what are your findings?"

"You really want to know?"

"I wouldn't have asked otherwise."

And Jane began to explain how she had experienced an epiphany with her interaction with Thor (and more scotch was consumed), how she thought it would be possible and even probable that humans would be able to travel the Tree and see other "Realms" as Thor had termed it.

Her eyes shone with passion and excitement. Even madness. "…and then…and then…anything would be possible! Can you imagine?" she ended in a whisper.

Loki watched her raptly. He had never known a mortal to be quite as impassioned as she. Yes, he would need to watch her, for she was as near madness as was possible to be. "Yes…it would be…something."

And he thought that Thor had changed, for never would he have been fallen to the charms (if one could all it such) of such a mortal previously. She wasn't as enthralling as Asgardians were accustomed.

A dark look passed his visage. "I can help you," he would never supply her with enough information to actually build anything like a Bifrost, but it would be amusing to watch, and perhaps ruin her interest in Thor…reward in and of itself.

"_You?_" and she laughed.

"What?"

She shrugged. "Nothing," and she got up. "What do you know, really, about astrophysics?"

They spoke all night.

Jane was wild with fever, and Loki patient and solemn.

And she learned just how much Fenrir knew. Impressive.

Jane brewed some coffee. "So…you think that this is possible?"

"I do."

"It's crazy. Insane. People already think that I'm losing it…"

"Do you care?" and Loki got up and went to Jane.

"No," she said simply.

And he smiled at her.

Part 2 - Darkness

"Who is he?" Erik was whispering to Jane in the lab's kitchen.

"I told you. His name is Fenrir."

"Some name."

"He's alright," and she looked into the lab proper. Fenrir was tinkering and playing with some instruments.

"What do you know about him?" Erik was mistrustful, and understandably so. He was protective of Jane, and the fact that she was trusting this guy so readily, well. It was disconcerting.

"He knows astrophysics and he doesn't mind fiddling with stuff. He really seems to enjoy taking things apart and putting them back together. Like…I dunno…just because he can."

"And is that getting you anywhere?"

"Actually yeah. We start and stop, sometimes it doesn't work…and he has a new idea, and we work on it…it's great," she sipped her coffee.

"What are you building again…?"

"Umm…well. It's kinda experimental."

"Jane…" he said worriedly.

"A travel device to see the deep recesses of space," she said hurriedly.

Erik rolled his eyes. "Jane. That's dangerous. Besides, Thor isn't coming back," he went to the door to leave.

"It's not! It's genius! I'm gonna change the world with this! And Fenrir is helping me," she stomped away as he left the lab. He doesn't understand. Not only would this be the most incredible invention the world had ever seen, she would be able to reach Thor. And then…and then…

"Are you alright, Jane?"

She looked at Fenrir and smiled. "Fine."

He wasn't moved. He had begun to know her a bit over the past few days of them working diligently on the capsule. She was passionate, she was wildly intelligent, and she was seldom "fine." Her preoccupation with his brother was the only thing he didn't quite get. Why she was so taken with him, he didn't understand. "Convincing," Loki said as she knelt next to him and began to play with a wrench, affixing some screw into the capsule.

"What? I'm fine," and she rocked back onto her haunches. "What's your story, anyhow? You show up out of the blue, you understand astrophysics better than a lot of PhD's I know…what's your story?"

"It is of little consequence," he muttered.

"Scared?"

"Beg your pardon?" and he squinted at her slightly.

"Are you scared to tell me your story?"

He laughed. "Absolutely not," and he rose from the floor. "It isn't a very interesting tale."

"Tell me anyway," she persisted.

Loki sighed. This mortal, she was something…"I had a fallout with my parents," and he smirked at his wordplay. "And my brother is an idiot, yet always receives my parents' favor. So I left."

"You were living with your parents?"

"Well," he paused. "Yes."

Jane laughed. "Oh my god. How old are you, anyway?"

He glared at her. "What does it matter to you, Jane Foster? You are here, attempting the impossible, chasing some so-called god in the sky…one could hardly call you the picture of stability."

Jane went over to him. A gloom falling heavy upon her, "Fuck you. At least I have a goal. You, currently, have only my dream to hold you," she spat.

"What do you know about dreams, small, insignificant woman? What do you know about _my_ dreams, of all things? What do you know about pain? About the void? About the universe you are so enamored of? What do you know of loss and the sick which is left when hope is gone?" he heaved his breath. "You know nothing of darkness…"

"Well, why don't you teach me?" she smirked at him, making light of his mood.

His eyes flashed, and for a moment, he almost did. Instead, he turned and left her in the lab, alone.

….

He was standing outside of her trailer, waiting for her. He hated that he was waiting for her. He had started a fire, and believed this to be an apt metaphor.

He saw her approaching, having spent five hours at the lab, and she looked to be worse for wear. "You appear unwell," he observed, as she came near the fire.

"I've been in the lab for like, ten hours straight. I'm hungry. Tired. And my vision is fuzzy and blurred."

"What are you doing, Jane?"

"What do you mean?" and she sat on the chair by the fire.

"I mean…you're building this thing. It's all you think about. Do you desire glory? Recognition? Riches? Love? You claim you wish to see this…Thor…you keep mentioning."

"I want to do something special with my life. I want to change things…and I want…" she paused. "I want to see the universe."

Loki nodded.

"What do you want, Fenrir?"

Loki looked into the fire and swallowed. "Light."

….

She was sweating. The algorithms were making sense….things whirred…the computer was registering her calculations…everything would be alright…she just needed to move it into the desert. It wouldn't do to test it in the middle of the lab.

Where was Fenrir? He had been strangely absent these past few hours.

Jane got up, her heart was pounding. Her hands were trembling. She swallowed. Shit. She was gonna do this…

"Jane?"

She looked around and saw Fenrir entering the lab. "Hey! Ready?"

"I am…you?"

She nodded. "Let's do this thing."

The pair lifted the capsule onto a dolly carefully…it was about as big as a refrigerator, and just as heavy. The plan was to put it into the pickup truck, then drive a few miles into the desert.

And then…

She smiled. They began to move the capsule and got it into the truck with relative ease…Jane thought it odd.

They drove deep into the desert…and she picked a random, isolated spot. They unloaded the capsule, and she clapped her hands once with mirth. "Oh my gosh…Fenrir! I can't believe this is gonna actually happen. I was thinking of a rocket, a NASA-type thing. But your idea of splitting atoms and teleportation was genius. I still don't get how you were able to come up with the formula."

He shrugged and swallowed, appearing to be nervous.

Jane stepped inside the capsule with a huge grin. She looked at Fenrir, and shrugged. "You set it for Asgard, right?"

He nodded.

"Ok," and Jane shut the door.

He could hear her typing something…

"Jane," he said.

No answer.

"Jane," once more, and he went over and opened the door to the capsule.

Her brow was furrowed as she looked up at him. "It isn't…."

"I know."

"You…?"

"Jane. I am Loki, of Asgard. And I have misled you in this venture."

Part 3 - Sanity

Jane stood, dumbstruck.

"You will not be able to use the capsule. It would never work."

She was shaking her head slowly. "No…no. The math…the formula. It all made sense," and she stepped out into the yawn, the sun bearing down menacingly.

"It made sense because you wanted it to make sense. Humans cannot navigate the deep recesses of space and time like this, with a device such as this. You aren't built that way," Loki turned away from her and ran his hand through his hair. He needed to make her see. Make her understand. "Jane, I know that you wish to see Thor, but truly…"

And realization washed over her. "You," she breathed. She had heard him say his name and where he was from, but it wasn't until just then that she understood completely. "You are Thor's brother! You sent the Destroyer! You…you are a trickster and a liar!"

He looked at her now. "I am all of those things, yes," and he wanted to tell her that in the past few days he had learned more about himself than he ever had. That he had discovered something symbiotic in them. That she had given him a peace he had not known in many, many years.

But he didn't.

"Oh my god. Don't ever come near me again," and she stomped away.

Jane walked with purpose back to her trailer. She wouldn't be going to the lab again today.

She wouldn't be going to the lab for quite a long while. Perhaps ever.

She went inside and laid on the bed, the tears stinging the backs of her eyes irritatingly. Jane flipped onto her stomach and wept into her pillow. She was so blind! Of course he was Loki! How else could he have known all that he did! And she went through her interactions with him, all of it falling into place.

My god, Jane. How could you be a PhD in astrophysics and yet be such an idiot? Space travel! That could never happen.

Never happen…

…she meandered through the next few days, barely getting up. She showered once, ate twice, but kept herself well hydrated. When Erik visited her because he was concerned, she told him to go away, that she needed time. Everything that she knew about herself she doubted now. Her mind, her ability, her wanderlust…though it remained steadfast, she dismissed it. It would never come to fruition.

And she thought of Loki.

How very smart he was. She supposed that he needed to be, or rather, that he ought to be, being as old as he was.

But Thor wasn't quite like that…

And she paused. No. Thor was different. He was braun and force. He was a puppy.

Loki was brilliant and subtle. And a total liar. A snake.

Jane was playing with her mug. She felt firmly planted on the ground. Stuck…

She was stuck. She had gone mad for an interlude, and with her hopes dashed, her sanity had returned. And now what was left?

To wait for Thor? Thor, whom she doubted would ever come back? When had she become so ridiculous?

She didn't hate herself, she wasn't given to self loathing. But she did feel as though she had lost herself somewhere along the way.

What was it that had enticed her so? She lit a fire outside of her trailer. It was night, and she pulled her sweater closer…she hadn't left the confines of the trailer in over five days now.

What had kept her going…made her ignore the utter lunacy of her theory? She sat next to the fire, and she sighed deeply.

Was it the promise of discovery? Of doing something no one had heretofore been able to accomplish? She sat back in the flimsy chair.

It was these things, but more.

It was the companionship of a like-mind…

"A lovely night to sit by a fire."

Jane closed her eyes. "It is, but the desert usually has such nights," and she looked up and saw him.

"Are you well? You appear to be different somehow…" and he conjured a chair and sat next to her.

Jane thought that she should flinch at a chair suddenly appearing out of nowhere, but it didn't phase her at present. "I am regaining my mind," she replied.

"Was it lost?"

"I think so."

Loki nodded. "I have lost much as well."

"You have?"

"Aye. My home, the only family…though that isn't saying much…I've ever known. And now…" he looked at her. "A friend."

Jane dropped her gaze. It fell into the flames in front of her. "Well…I wouldn't say lost, per se."

"No, lost is apt. My friend, and mind you, I haven't many to speak of…she will never forgive me."

"Never is quite a long time," observed she.

"I am well aware," Loki replied. "Jane…it is very difficult to say this…but I am sorry."

She looked at him. "I know you are."

He shrugged. "Well," and he clapped his hands together and stood. "I suppose that is that, then."

Jane stood now as well. "You're leaving?"

"I am."

"Where will you go?"

"Anywhere."

"Can you do that? Just go…anywhere?" she was transfixed.

"Aye. "Tis true," his gaze was deliberate. Intoxicating.

Jane swallowed. "Wow."

"Jane…" he began…

…and without warning, without preamble, Jane was assaulting his mouth…running her hands up and down his back, and Loki was returning her embrace.

She brought him to the trailer forthwith, and clothes were ripped from bodies, desperate and now, and moans, kisses, terrible yearning…all succumbed to want in that moment.

She laid there with him later, the moon slicing the black with her rays of glow. Jane had her face against his chest…he was sleeping…

Part 4 - Light

It was a bright day in New Mexico.

"And that's all? That is your explanation? Magic?"

"Well…that is the simplest way to explain it," and he smiled at her.

"Unsatisfying and somewhat insulting. I can understand whatever you tell me. I am quite capable." and she sipped her lukewarm coffee.

"I can show you, you know."

Jane looked at him and laughed. "Show me? How? What, exactly?"

"The Realms," and a mischievous look passed his face.

"Loki, don't play like that. Even for you, it isn't fair."

"I am in earnest…I can take you," he hadn't moved, but was watching her raptly.

"Honestly?"

"Truly."

"When?" and she sat up.

"Now, if you like…and we can return here by nightfall."

"Oh my god…" and Jane's mind spun. She could go with him…see the Realms…see the deep space which lay hidden behind the cloak of galaxies. "Ok," she barely returned, her smile was so wide.

And an understanding presented itself…a mutual regard, which, despite the sex which had transpired over the course of a few days, had laid unspoken between them. He knew her…and somehow, she knew him…

"The light will be blinding momentarily, Jane," as they left the trailer and he took her hand.

"That's alright. I'd rather it be so bright it's blinding, than so dark I cannot see."


	14. Chapter 14

_For JaninaM8_

"_I have little left in myself - I must have you. The world may laugh - may call me absurd, selfish - but it does not signify. My very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame."_

_― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre_

* * *

><p>There was little she had she desired. She was a girl of simple pleasures, and she preferred it that way.<p>

The year was 1940. The world was at war, and Jane Foster was in London as Germany eyed the western power. There were rumors of a night bombing approaching…the early September heat sank in pearled humidity with long tendrils…odd for London. Jane was in the library, and the air was electric with dread and noiseless anticipation.

"They say Churchill doesn't give a damn…he will stand up to Hitler no matter what."

"I say bravo. We won't be pushed around by some great German bully. I don't care what happened twenty years ago…"

Jane slid out of her chair with her book, "A Passage to India," tucked under her arm. She didn't want to think about any impending war. It was bad enough that the world was collapsing around her, but to acknowledge it outright…well. It really was just too much to bear.

It did no good to dwell, anyway. Things would happen with or without her approval.

She smiled at the librarian as she checked out her book.

"Keep close to home, dear…they say that Hitler is on the move."

Jane nodded and left in a hurry. Her head was down as she made her way back to her flat.

She decided to stop by the bake shop for some bread; Jane was having soup that evening. Her mum had taught her how to make a nice potato soup, and she rather thought that the bread would be a nice addition to her meal. She went in to the sound of ding at the door.

"Afternoon, lovely. Heard about the bombers, then? They are on their way, I hear," and the baker's eyes went to the large shop windows, peering out into the street, as though the planes were already overhead, unheard.

"Yeah. It's all the talk," replied Jane.

"Well. What do you think of it? You seem awfully calm," and he looked at her with concern.

"I think that war is silly. I think that there are better ways to satisfy arguments. I think that if I were in charge of England, I'd tell Germany to piss off," and she handed the baker a crown for the bread.

The keep didn't respond, so Jane left.

Absurd war. And she looked about the street full of people slipping on the stones as their eyes looked worriedly at the sky.

It was incredible that people weren't running into one another.

Jane went to her flat to see to the soup.

She turned on the radio, when all she could hear were people talking about the bombings a few weeks previous in London, and the subsequent retaliation of Churchill.

Berlin would not be subdued.

Jane sighed and ladled the soup into a bowl, cut the bread, and sat at her table. The curtains needed mending…and she found herself thinking of her mum as she played with the tattered material hanging in front of her window. Her mum was a strong woman. Her mum was determined…

And Jane had forsaken her dream of university to care for an ill father who had passed just a few months previous. She should revisit her dream of a degree in science…though a female scientist was not something she thought that the world was quite ready for.

Jane shrugged, finished her soup, and went to read her Forester.

_"__Life never gives us what we want at the moment that we consider appropriate." _

Her eyes fixed on that particular sentence for a good long while.

She sighed…

…and as she exhaled, the hum was heard approaching…the sound of the sirens issuing their warning…

But it was dark, they wouldn't dare…

Yet they did, and Jane's house holding her flat shook when the bomb hit.

She ran to her window draped by the flimsy curtain, and she looked out onto the street. People were everywhere…they were panicking…

"Get to the underground! To the underground!"

She grabbed some things she thought might be of use, and a sweater despite the warmth. Jane ran out of the flat as another bomb hit, and it pierced her ears and rattled her brain. Damn them. She couldn't believe that they would be so ruthless as this. But they were. They were, and the newly descended night held the horror of death in its wake.

Jane tripped a bit as she made her way down the stairs…

"Watch where you're going," said a male voice, smooth.

"Sorry," she replied…

And as she did so, the staircase fell in, and Jane felt a hand on her arm pulling her.

Dust was everywhere. She was coughing…where was that man…?

Jane looked around in a hurry. There…he was rising off the debris laden floor.

"Oh my god…are you alright?" she said, going over to him.

"I am," said the man.

He rose from the floor, brushing himself off. He was tall, with black hair and sharp features.

"No good in standing about," he observed. "Best…" but he never finished, for another bomb hit, probably only a couple of streets away. "We need to get to the basement!" he yelled. "We'll never get out in time!" she could barely hear him from the sound of the screaming sirens muffling his voice. He took her hand and led her downstairs.

The basement was dark, and it shook from the force of the Blitzkrieg above.

There were bits of light peeling through the smallish windows, illuminating the dust falling from the ceiling as the structure rocked from the assault.

Jane was breathing was labored. It was suffocating in the basement with the dust and the humidity affixing the dust to the air like glue. "Will we be safe here?" she managed.

"No idea," and he peered out of the window.

Jane sat on the floor, putting her belongings next to her. "Well. I suppose we are here for the night," and her head fell back onto the basement wall.

The man turned toward her. "I'm Loki."

"Jane."

"I know," and he smiled.

Her eyes squinted. "What do you mean, you know?"

"I live in the flat under you. I've watched you for a while now…"

"Ah…"

"Sorry," and he sat across from her. "That must sound rather…odd. I only meant that we are two of three people in this building, so of course I know who you are."

"Oh," Jane replied. She didn't mention that she had no idea who he was. "Have you lived here long?"

"About two months. You?"

"Erm…four, I think."

Loki nodded. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

…..

He had been watching her. He was transfixed and bewitched by her. He couldn't explain it. He had seen her walking one day a few months ago from the library, and decided to follow her. It was as though she held a secret for him, and only for him. He wanted so badly to talk to her, but the opportunity never presented itself.

And then he began dreaming of her.

It was at least three hundred years ago…in Ireland…and he was a Prince or something…and this woman, she was his love…

It made no sense, but there it was. Loki had never been to Ireland. It was preposterous that he should dream of it.

He swallowed and looked at Jane. She had a puzzled look on her countenance. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he quickly supplied. My god, she was lovely. "Just…ah…warm in here."

"It is," and Jane began to take off her sweater and unbutton a few buttons of her blouse. "It's going to be a long night."

Loki looked away.

It certainly was.

….

"So that's pretty much it," Jane finished. She had spoken of her childhood, the deaths of her parents…Loki had barely said a word.

He was looking at her, though, and his gaze made her shift.

The bombing was their only companion…and then one hit hard, and she jumped. "Shit," she exclaimed, rubbing her face with her hands.

"It's alright, Jane," and he came closer to her.

"It isn't though! We are as good as dead."

He sighed, rubbing circles on her back.

Jane wasn't a virgin, but she had only had sex with one other man. Granted, they had had a lot of sex; she had dated him, and nearly married him when he went to France to see his grandmother. He never came back.

Jane guessed the war had taken him.

She looked at Loki.

He was handsome.

His gaze intense.

"Jane…" he whispered.

She swallowed…

And suddenly, nothing mattered. Nothing was real…the bombs outside suddenly ceased their incessant falling.

He kissed her, his hand wrapping around the back of her head…

And she returned it, placing her palm on his chest.

He deepened it quickly and pulled her on top of him. "Jane…" he whispered. "Can I…can we…?"

His hands were already on her breasts, and he was slipping his hands under her shirt.

Jane felt torn…but the bombs…the heat…his gaze…and she sat back, rocking a bit on his erection.

Loki moaned and tore her shirt off, ripped at her bra, and seized her nipple in his mouth…teeth, tongue, fingers…and Jane cried her pleasure, wanting more.

Loki's hands made their way down her, to her bottom, and wrapped around, he took both hands and massaged her hips, while his tongue traced up her neck. He was grateful for her skirt, for he only had her underwear to contend with…and off they went in a mad rush. Jane cried out as he found her sex, massaging her clitoris, inserting his long finger inside…"Loki…" she breathed. "I…"

"Don't say a word, Jane…" and he eased her onto the floor. "I will worship you…here, at the end of all things."

He extracted his finger and placed his hands on either side of her. His mouth made his way down until he reached her center. Jane's back arched as she cried…his tongue roving about in a mad dance of passion. Jane ground against it…the bombs shrieked…people could be heard screaming…but Jane felt only Loki as she reached her climax.

He rose up and slid inside of her. He moved slowly at first…but his rhythm quickened, pumping over and over…Jane could do anything but allow it…

And as he came close, she closed her eyes…she hadn't to this point, wanting to relish it all as she believed that they were about to die.

_…__she saw a green, lush meadow…and a forest along the periphery…she was standing next to a large oak…and he was next to her…she turned…"Loki," she said, smiling. He took her waist, and guided her to the tree, her back against it…Loki kissed her, and lifted her body into a wrap around him…Jane felt his arousal inside of her and she screamed…_

…she screamed. "Loki!" as he came.

"Jane," and he collapsed on top of her. "Did you see it?"

Her eyes were wide…she didn't need to answer…

"We are one," he said. "You are mine."


	15. Chapter 15

_Posted to Tumblr, because I was avoiding work. The prompt was:_

**_Last time I saw you, I said that it hurt too much to love you. But I was wrong about that. The truth is it hurts too much not to love you._**

**_P.C. Cast, House of Night_**

Somewhere in between the firmly cast shadow of winter's moon and the whisper of promise in spring's green, she lingers.

Somewhere in the depths of the pool of pixels of light, she languishes…

And he waits.

He knows that she is there, he feels her presence. Even in his cell, he feels…rotting in putrified muck…left, forgotten…he recalls his station, so long ago now.

Was it a year ago?

Five?

Ten?

Minutes, years, hours…they run together, spilling into nameless hues and liquid shame.

He chastised her for coming. He knew not her purpose. He did not bother to ask. He did, he recalled with a very slight blush, laugh at her.

How preposterous that she should condescend to such an interview! How shameful a recurrence, when he told her to leave repeatedly. But the fates, blind as they were, chose not to hear his mirth. Instead, they taunted him with her presence.

_"__You are foolish, Jane Foster. You, with your science. You, with Thor's favor. Why are you here?"_

_"__Because I was told you could help."_

_"__Help," he sneered. _

_"__Yeah. Thor said…"_

_"__Thor! Do not speak of him to me, mortal."_

And so it was. She did not speak. She did not speak, but still she came.

At first he was amused at her persistence. And then it transformed into annoyance. How long could she continue to sit and stare at him thus? Foolish, stubborn mortal. He smirked at her sitting there on the floor outside of his cell.

Yet there he was, on the inside of his cell, she was forever looking inward.

_"__Tell me what you need," said he, many weeks following._

_"__I need to navigate without the Bifrost…I need to know how to get home."_

_"__The Bifrost…?"_

_"__Is broken," she simply said._

He recalled having smiled at this. He recalled her returning that smirk, but not wavering in the least. She would not be deterred, not to be circumvented from the task at hand…

_"__And if I had this stone…this thing you call an Infinity Stone, it would lead me home?" she breathed after many hours of wordplay and evasion on his part._

_"__But how would you obtain it, Jane Foster? The alternative…"_

_"__I know what the alternative is," letting him out of his cage was not an option. "Why so much hatred, Loki?"_

_"__Hatred is what everyone sees when they see me," he said. "Hatred is who I am."_

_"__No it's not. It's who you want to be…"_

He had no idea who he wanted to be. And the blood on his hands flowed freely. His eyes, cracked with emotion and tears and no sleep, they stung.

He had sent her on a fool's errand with the Warriors Three. The Bifrost had no entrance to Midgard, so they attempted to get her home through other branches, through a quest for an Infinity Stone.

Before, he had his ire. Before, he had his pain. And now, now…he had his hands. They held nothing.

_He sat against the wall. He was loathe to admit how much he anticipated her presence. She was his only means of companionship, and though Prince Loki needed no one, he needed her. _

_Captive. _

_Criminal._

_Miscreant._

_"__Loki?"_

_He looked up and saw her…cloaked as she was in white…he smiled softly. "Jane Foster."_

_She went to the glass, and placed her palm on it. "I'll be back," said she. _

_"__Why does it hurt, Jane?" foolishly he uttered these words. Why, indeed, simple child._

_"__What hurts?"_

_"__Love. Worse than hate."_

_He spied a tear glistening in her eye's far corner, threatening expulsion, damaging salt. "I don't know. But maybe because you are there, and I am here."_

_He nodded, not caring to reply._

So a sin simple in song, choking a reality of effervescent power, he waited.

_You are there, I am here…_

_Those words sunk into his mind, took root, and bloomed a blossom of inky blackness…_

_"__She hasn't returned, Loki," Thor had said. _

_"__No."_

_"__You love her," he said to his brother's back._

_No answer._

_And he heard him leave…_

And he was alone.

She visits in his dreams, so much that he detests his opening eyes.

To never have touched her…

Never caressed her face…

Never tasted her mouth…

Nor felt her beneath him in the quaking night, panting, desperate for now.

Death would have been preferable.

And in his dream…

_"__Jane…_**_Last time I saw you, I said that it hurt too much to love you. But I was wrong about that. The truth is it hurts too much not to love you._**_"_

_"__Oh Loki, stop," she laughs. _

And she is forever just beyond his grasp, tantalizing his mind with her eyes, her touch, her voice, lulling him into infinity.


End file.
